


...But Home is Nowhere

by AnnieMabelCoffeeTable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Existential Road Trips, Finding home, Gen, M/M, post canon au, written in fragments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieMabelCoffeeTable/pseuds/AnnieMabelCoffeeTable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the dust has settled, Castiel sets out to figure out who he has become and what he desires for his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...But Home is Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Written post 10x23 as a character study and practice in writing pre-established voices so I suppose now it's more an AU set place after Season 11-ish that ignores all subsequent seasons. Spoilers up to 10x23 and canon compliant up to that point as well. Rating is for language. Story is Castiel-centric with heavy Crowley presence. (Cas/Dean is very vague but present if you wish to observe it)

_Lebanon, KS_

 

            “You really heading out already Cas?” Sam asked, glancing up from his laptop as Castiel paused by the table on his way to the stairs. “We haven’t even been back an hour. You’re welcome to sit down, you know. Maybe take your coat off. Have a nice hot cup of coffee molecules.”

            Sam waved to the seat across from himself with a friendly smile. “Come on, when have we had a break like this in forever? We’re all overdue some rest.”     

            “I, thank you.” Castiel started, “but I believe I’m feeling somewhat disquieted after everything. You and Dean should be fine without my being here.”

            “Where will you go?” Sam frowned and glanced toward the hallway. “We’ll miss you. Dean will miss you.”

            Castiel looked down with the smallest hint of a wistful smile. “I don’t know, Sam. For once, I have no idea where I’m going. It’s oddly comforting. No mission to drown myself in, well and truly free.”

            Sam closed the computer gently and stood to embrace his friend with a sigh. “Hoping getting away will help to clear your head? I can understand that. Sometimes you have to step back to find what you aren’t missing. Try not to forget us, and if you need anything, anything at all, Dean and I are just a call away.”

            “Of course. The same goes for you as well.” Castiel returned the hug, and gave an awkward little bow after pulling away.  “Take care, Sam.”  
            Sam watched pensively as the angel ascended the iron stairway to the bunker’s entrance. Before Castiel stepped fully out the door, Sam called out to him one last time.

            “Wherever you are, wherever you go. Home will be waiting.”

* * *

 

_On the road_

 

            Crowley appeared in the passenger seat of the Continental fifty miles outside Lebanon. He gave the car a cursory once over before addressing the driver with an amused smirk.

            “Hello, angel.”

            Castiel glared to his left through the review mirror, his hands tightening around the wheel instinctively. “What do you want Crowley?”

            “I missed you too, darling. Shouldn’t you be canoodling with the flannel brigade? Have a lover’s spat?”

            “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you in my car?”

            Crowley gave Castiel’s brusque tone no mind as he idly played with his phone.

            “Can’t I visit an old mate? No. Fine, if you most know, I’m desiring a bit of a siesta. Demons are unbearable, petty, and dull on good days, and downright abhorrent the rest of the time. Now quid pro quo, Feathers.”

            “I need some space to figure out what I want.” Castiel's response surprised him as he had not intended to actually respond at all. He clenched his jaw and awaited the inevitable mockery from his unwelcome passenger.

            “You could always squirrel away in a cabin and stare at ants. I hear that worked well for Thoreau.” At Castiel’s silence, he continued. “The Winchester’s ohana means family blah blah blah only goes so far I suppose. Something about a forest and trees.”

            “Dean and Sam have nothing to do with this.”

            “Oh really, so you’re not questioning your place with them at the moment?” Crowley raised a brow. “My mistake.”

            “Dean and Sam are my friends.”

            “Look, Cas, let’s pretend for a moment that we don’t have history of screwing each other over. I get it. I’ve been in and out of their regard enough to know the appeal. So how about this? You tolerate my continued existence in your vehicle for the time being, and I’ll provide you company that doesn’t require your abilities for validation.”

            “Why would I do that?”

            “Because deep down you and I don’t actually hate each other. And you’re lonely.”

* * *

 

_Pontiac, IL_

Ten hours later Castiel stood outside a weathered barn with a familiar ache slowly spreading through him. He slipped a hand in his coat pocket, his fingers wrapping around the phone where a message was already waiting.

*From Dean: _What is it with you and leaving?_

            “Wasn’t your vessel from around here somewhere?” Crowley asked offhandedly as he leaned casually against the car. “However, I’m guessing that’s not the reason why it’s first stop on the magical mystery tour.”

            “Yes, Jimmy lived here once.” Castiel replied slowly, “Not that it matters now as Claire is all that remains of his life, and she no longer calls this home. This,” He paused and considered leaving it at that, before continuing plaintively. “This is where I met Dean as I am now for the first time. He stabbed me in the heart.”

            “Now there’s a real shock.” Crowley laughed. “Though I have to admit, for you two idiots it’s disgustingly poetic.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing. Pesky subtext is all. It’s ineffable.”

            Castiel stared at him, clearly baffled, and Crowley rolled his eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself. Enough with the reminiscing, it’s getting us nowhere. I know, we should hit Chicago next. How do you feel about deep dish pizza?”

* * *

 

_Utica, NY_

            “You’re texting your dead vessel’s daughter?” Crowley asked as they sat on the park’s stone steps. “That’s a new one.”

            “She worries.” Castiel defended, “I know I’m not her father, but I care for her.”

            “I wonder if Gavin likes texting.” Crowley muttered, more to himself than his distracted companion.

* * *

 

_Augusta, ME_

            They stood solemn on the bank of the river with coats pulled close to protect from chill in the air neither were capable of feeling. Castiel lost track of how many times over the last few years he’d found himself at water’s edge questioning his place, his mission, his very intentions. _Waiting on a pier inside Dean’s dreams, atoning alone in Purgatory, listening to a wayward brother speak of fish who fight to be free._

            “How long do you think it’s possible to waver in the in-between before you lose everything you are?” The question slipped past Castiel’s lips unbidden, and he wondered for a moment whether or not he wished for Crowley to ignore it.

            “Angel or Human? Heaven or Earth? Soup or Salad? Eventually you have to make a choice. Balance of the universe and all that bollocks.” Crowley smirked at Castiel’s surprised expression. “What? I can be helpful. The real question, Cas, is what do **you** want?”

            “Angel’s aren’t meant to want, yet, here I am an angel again and the longings linger. I’ve changed too much over such a brief period of my existence to ever be again what I once was. Nor do I desire to do so.”

            “Humanity is chaotic and arduous. There’s a certain detachment that accompanies immortality, but I don’t fancy you content sitting on your cloud simply watching anymore. You’ve gotten those pretty hands dirty, and some spots simply never come out.” Crowley bent to pick up a smooth stone and turned it over in his palm absently.

            “There are... feelings I had before the fall that I couldn’t begin to understand. Then my grace was ripped from me, and I realized as I struggled with the full burden of human emotion just how far I’d already fallen. Being human was an awakening, and I still feel... everything. It’s easier to try to ignore it as I am now, but I am too human to be an angel and too angel to be a human.”

            “Ever considered becoming a goat?” Crowley laughed at Castiel’s leveled glare. “There’s that smolder. You’re going to make me all tingly, and then Squirrel’s going to be out for my head again.” Castiel rolled his eyes, and Crowley’s tone softened to almost begrudgingly affectionate. “Whilst I can’t tell you who you are, save for a colossal pain in the ass regardless of your current species, I will say that if you examine closely the fact you’re asking at all just might hold that elusive answer.”

            The comfortable silence that settled around them broke with Castiel's heavy sigh. “I suppose I should table my crisis of self for now. It’s getting late, and I’m fairly certain you’ll burst into flames if you continue to show such alarming geniality. Not that I’d complain, of course.” Castiel smiled softly, and nodded back in the direction of the Continental. “You know, Dean once took me to a brothel a little North of here.”

            Crowley glanced over with a carefully raised brow, before hurling the stone out into the water. “You have my attention.”

* * *

 

_Trenton, NJ_

           

            “What in heaven possessed us to stop here?”

            “Interesting word choice, Crowley.”

* * *

 

_Washington D.C._

Castiel spent two somber days haunting various memorials to fallen soldiers, saying small prayers for the lives both human and angel lost in the path of his own ambitions and mistakes. Crowley disappeared shortly after insisting on this particular stop in order to check in on a few of his agents, and Castiel found his sudden solitude oddly cathartic. This particular series of shadows he wished to address alone, and by the time the demon reappeared on their third day in the city Castiel had formed a tentative armistice with his insistent guilt.

          “I feel like I’m staring at a giant stone phallus. No better way to commemorate a dead guy than 555 feet of rock. How delightfully American.”

            “What are you bitching about now, Crowley?” Castiel half-heartedly inquired, his attention absorbed by the colors of the sunset swimming hypnotically across the reflecting pool.

            “Modern architecture, darling. How goes your absolution of self? I just spent the last six hours listening to a lobbyist prattle on about catfish inspections or some nonsense. Your existential impasse is a marked improvement I assure you.”

            “I’m tired of asking for forgiveness. I can’t change what I did, what I became. How can I ask Dean or Sam to let go of the burdens of their past when I’m drowning in my own. It’s past time to try living again.”

            “Sounds fair enough. Personally I prefer hypocrisy and a well-aged Scotch, but good on you.”

* * *

 

_Nashville, TN_

 

*From Dean: _Find yourself yet, Waldo?_

 

            Castiel frowned at his phone, muttering sullenly. “I’m alarmed that I actually understand that reference.”

            “Getting texts from a gentleman caller, are we? Careful now, Cassie, wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. I hear Dean Winchester has a mean jealous streak. He’ll be sore enough when he finds out you went to a concert with **me** last night.” Crowley raised his brows suggestively and opened the passenger door.

            “Why would Dean care that Dean is texting me?” Castiel replied distractedly, shaking away the mental picture of Metatron reading children’s books about a man in a peppermint-striped sweater with a penchant for disappearing into similarly dressed crowds.

            “You’re hopeless, you know that? Bloody hopeless.”

            “So you keep telling me.” Castiel started the car and drove less than a block before Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder.

            “Park this garish insult to automobiles over there somewhere. I could use a drink.”

 

            “A piano bar?” Castiel asked, once they’d taken seats at a table inside. “I half expected you to try dragging me into a strip club. This is... nice.”

            “I’ll have you know I’m a classy man.” Crowley sipped his fruity drink thoughtfully. “I can see why, considering the proclivities of your preferred companion, you would expect less refined methods of unwinding.” He continued quickly with an exasperated sigh before Castiel could reprimand him. “Yes, yes you don’t appreciate my implying your boyfriend has poor tastes. No need to get all smitey.”

            “Dean and I aren’t...”

            “You’re both drowning in denial, that’s what you are. Stop interrupting. You know, for all your differences, you and Dean are a lot alike.” He took the umbrella from his drink and placed it behind Castiel’s ear. “Fiercely loyal, obstinate, self-sacrificing with an unseemly amount of daddy issues, and no one, I mean no one hates you more than you hate yourselves. The way you treat each other. Only the ones you love the most are capable of creating the kind of pain you constantly inflict on each other. I see it, Moose sees it, hell, even Naomi knew. The only two pigeons that can’t seem to figure it out are you and him.”

* * *

 

_New Orleans, LA_

            “Riverboat gambling? Always something new with you angelcakes. Heavenly warrior by daylight, bloody brutal card shark after the sun goes down. Imagine my surprise when you swept that game last night, it wasn’t even a Thursday. Had I a hat, I’d tip it to you.” Crowley waited patiently as Castiel stuffed his duffel with clothing he’d purchased using his poker winnings. When he’d finished Castiel tossed the bag in the back seat next to where his discarded suit and trench coat were hanging.

            Crowley gestured dramatically up the angel’s figure, now clad in a dark grey t-shirt and jeans. “Care to finally explain the need for the sudden wardrobe change. It’s unsettling to see you sans overcoat. I was honestly convinced it was attached.”

            “I stand out enough without wearing full business attire in Louisiana heat. Unlike you, Crowley, I’m not actively seeking extra attention everywhere I go.” He waved a hand at Crowley’s dark suit. “For once I’m not at war, or out of my head, and there isn’t an impending apocalypse to deal with. I think it’s best that I take a few steps back and try to fade into the background where I belong.”

            “Some people are designed to stand out, and I suppose I’ve always been a bit of an albino peacock with a flair for the theatrics. The King of Hell does have a reputation to uphold. As for where _you_ belong, that really depends on who you ask as I can think of a few people who’d disagree strongly with your current assessment. Let’s just say to a particular audience you draw attention simply by nature of being Castiel. You’re the fraternal tertiary in a way no one else has quite seem to fit. Bit of a shame you can’t see it. You’ll get there eventually.” He picked up Castiel’s phone from the hood of the car as Castiel closed the back door. “Speak of your brother, you’ve got unread messages from Bullwinkle.”

            Castiel took his phone from the demon’s hand, unlocked the screen, and read Sam’s messages with a fond smile.

 

*From Sam: _Dean is seriously driving me crazy_

*From Sam: _I mean it, Cas. I’m this close to dyeing his hair green while he sleeps._

*From Sam: _He’s been moping around the bunker all week, and the yesterday he just goes out and comes back with_

 _some secret tattoo._    

*From Sam: _I miss you, and I hope you’re doing alright out there._

            After a quick glance back at his amused companion, Castiel typed out a short reply.

 

*To Sam: _I am well. Thank you for asking. Green is a good color on Dean._

 

            A week later the odd pair sat at a little cafe under the stars as Crowley ate beignets and retold a previous encounter with a voodoo practitioner who’d proceeded to threaten him with Papa Legba’s wrath much to his own amusement. Castiel’s interest was wistfully focused on the songs of a nearby street performer, and he only nodded vaguely at Crowley’s tale. Over the last few days in the city, the angel had found serenity people watching, enjoying the smooth jazz and vibrant live art of The Big Easy. As he’d wandered about the streets, leaving generous tips from his nighttime card games with Crowley, Castiel often thought of Sam and Dean. He wondered if they’d ever had the opportunity to relax and enjoy the city for themselves, and wondered what it would be like to return here with them someday in the future.

            The blind musician began her next song, a lament about a house called the Rising Sun, and the smoky accent of her voice reminded Castiel of another. It had been a long time since he’d thought of Benny, but he’d never wished the man any ill will. When he’d met the vampire in Purgatory, Castiel found him vexing. His own guilt and the inevitable danger he would pose his dearest friend kept Castiel from standing at Dean’s side, and in his absence Benny had come along to fill the space Castiel had once called his own. He had been unable to avoid the twinge of jealousy he’d felt at how the circumstances had made Dean and Benny’s relationship easier. Benny wasn’t around Dean long enough to disappoint him and fall from the great heights of the elder Winchester’s regard, and despite his envy Castiel found himself oddly relieved. At least someone hadn’t managed to hurt him, and Castiel mused perhaps Dean would have been happier if Benny were the one still here beside him. Or even if he and Castiel had met under different conditions how would they feel about each other now?

            Castiel looked up as the song ended, unaware that he had long since risen from his seat and walked over the woman. Crowley watched him carefully from the abandoned table.

            “I’d like to think we could been friends, Benny and I.” Castiel told no one in particular as he dropped a sizeable roll of cash in the open guitar case on the ground.

* * *

 

_Santa Barbara, CA_

            Castiel watched meditatively as the tide passed over his bare feet, able to feel the crisp cold of the water and the squish of the wet sand with extreme focus. Before losing his grace, Castiel had never fully been aware of how muted sensations became while envesselated. He found his problem with the sense of touch now the same as that of taste. Knowing how certain things should feel makes the disparity incredibly jarring and unnerving.

            He was alone on the beach under the moonlight save for Crowley who stood, still in full suit, several yards behind him. With a somber sigh Castiel walked over to Crowley and retrieved his boots from where they lay near Crowley’s feet.

            “Aren’t you heavenly types supposed to get off on the whole washing of the feet? Shouldn’t you look less, well, miserable.”

            Castiel shrugged as he pulled on his boots, and then began the short walk out to where he’d parked the Continental. “I am... content.”

            He glanced over at Crowley who encouraged him to continue with a skeptical nod. “It’s just, sometimes, I miss being able to fully appreciate feelings as I did when I was human. To feel the water on my skin, really feel it again. If I try, I can come close, but I still know the difference. The full range of human emotion can be so suffocating but this disconnect between myself and this body...”

            Castiel stopped, his voice growing faint as his thoughts trailed off. Crowley placed a placating hand on his shoulder and urged him to motion once more. “Sounds to me like you **do** want to be a stupid, stinking emotional pile of meat after all. Not to play into the old serpent cliché, but you could fall.”

            Castiel turned his eyes toward the stars in agony. “Can I tell you something, if you promise not to tell another soul?” He laughed flippantly, thinking of the last time those particular words passed his lips.

            “Anything.” Crowley replied cautiously, feeling inexplicably affected by Castiel’s sudden grave demeanor.

            “I stole Theo’s grace because I needed to escape. I needed to be able to warn Dean about Ezekiel’s death, and I needed to be able to fight. I did what I had to.”

            “But not what you wanted to.”

            “Had the circumstances been different, then yes, I would have chosen to stay human. I didn’t want to be an angel anymore. I’d done enough damage for lifetimes, and I was always a lousy angel anyway. At least as a human, I had a chance to try over.”

            They stood next to the car in silence for several minutes before Crowley spoke again. “Then why not do it again now? What’s stopping you?”

            “Don’t you get it, I need my powers because Sam and Dean need me. I’ve disappointed them too much in the past already, and I won’t do so again just for my own selfish desires.”

            Crowley slammed his hand on the hood in frustration. “You are a right idiot, Castiel. Maddeningly so. It’s like you haven’t even been paying attention at all. You’ve been broken down or depowered almost the **entirety** of your relationship with the Winchesters. The only times you weren’t incapacitated in some form you were either being controlled, working against them for heaven, or working with me. There’s more than one way to **need** someone! It’s like you’ve become as codependent as they are.” Crowley shook his head in exasperation. “Castiel, you’ve been depressed, you’ve been suicidal, and in doing so you’re unknowingly hurting the person who means the most to you. You really think all those prayers are just him waxing poetic about his favorite weapon? For his sake and yours, just fall already. Move into their little hobbit hole and buy some houseplants to threaten.”

 

 

            Castiel and Crowley spoke little to each other the next day, each still agitated with the stubborn refusal of the other to see reason. That night Crowley, tired of the short passive aggressive complaints of his sullen comrade, brought the angel to a jazz club he’d heard about on the boardwalk that morning from a passerby.

            “Consider this my apology for dispensing unwanted, though undeniably correct, advice last night. You seemed taken with this style of music in Louisiana, and I was assured this place is considered the best in town.” Crowley led him over to the bar with a hand on his shoulder, and they took seats next to a dark haired man nursing a glass of whiskey. The bartender flirted shamelessly with an oblivious Castiel while taking their drink orders, and Crowley turned to speak to the man next them. He looked up and Crowley stared into blue eyes with terrified recognition. “Cain?” He asked nervously, grasping Castiel’s wrist to catch his attention.

            “No, Carlton.” The man answered with a stern frown. “Chief of Police. You look familiar. Have I put you away before?”

            “Thankfully, it seems you and I have never met.” Crowley replied with an awkward laugh. The bartender set down his and Castiel’s drinks, and Castiel frowned at the digits scrawled across the napkin placed before him.

            Crowley picked up the bartender’s number and rolled his eyes. “Someone should tell the poor duck they don’t wear enough flannel to catch your eye.”

* * *

 

_Las Vegas, NV_

 

            Crowley insisted they make a quick stop on the strip, mumbling something about “easy targets” before leaving Castiel alone to entertain himself. Eager to escape the frantic ebb and flow of Vegas inequity, Castiel retreated to the solace of the local sign graveyard. He wandered aimlessly around the rows of retired neon with a fond smile. Human ingenuity and creativity never failed to impress him.

            The longer he spent looking at certain pieces, the more his thoughts were drawn to his friends. The stars on the Neon Boneyard sign at the entrance reminded him of Claire’s tattoo. A giant shoe reminded him of the time Sam introduced him to fairy tales. A cocktail sign was the exact shade of Dean’s green eyes. By the time he found Crowley leaned up against giant letters spelling out “SIN”, Castiel had grown quite restless.

            “You seem fidgety. Homesick perhaps?” Crowley offered.

            “I suppose.” Castiel answered nonchalantly. “Get your menace out of your system yet?”  
            “Now that would be a feat wouldn’t it? What can I say, I’ve never been able to resist a good power play. Speaking of...” He pulled a large fold of bills out of his suit coat and handed it to Castiel. “Managed to win this off a pair of pathetic, rich blighters on my way out.”  
            “Why are you giving me this?”

            “Well, it’s not like I have any need of it. Consider it a part of your starting over fund. Keep it, give it away, open a bookstore with Samwise or some other domestic nonsense. I don’t care.”  
            “Thank you,” Castiel replied cautiously, “Should I be expecting you to spontaneously combust sometime soon?”

* * *

 

_On the road (again)_

“I have to admit your little hooptie certainly seems to run a lot smoother than it did when we were tracking down Gadreel? Spare a little angel magic on it?”

            “Dean has been working on her whenever I’ve been at the bunker between hunts. He says I’m not any use to him if she leaves me stranded somewhere.” Castiel tried to repress a nostalgic grin as he remembered an oil-stained Dean lecturing him on proper car maintenance.  
            Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure **that’s** why he did it.”  
            Before Castiel could respond in contrary, the shrill tone of his cellphone filled the car. He reached over to answer it, but Crowley already had it in his hands.

            “Samantha darling! Long time, no threats. It’s been ages. I was beginning to worry the spark had died.”

            “Give me that!” Castiel growled as he grabbed the phone from the demon with a harsh glare. “Sorry, Sam. He’s very handsy.”

            “Uh, yeah. No problem, Cas.” a confused Sam replied. “Not to pry or anything, but why is the King of Hell with you?”  
            “He’s been travelling with me since I left Lebanon. General Crowleyness aside he’s actually been a surprisingly tolerable companion.”  
            “If you say so,” Sam laughed. “I just wanted to check in on you. It’s been almost as month since you left.”

            “I’m quite well. Crowley and I are just leaving Las Vegas and headed northwest.”

            “Vegas?” Sam asked in a strained tone. “You didn’t wind up accidently married while you were there did you?”

            “I did not... Should I have?”

            “No, Cas. Definitely not. Dean would freak. It’s a long story. I’m sure Dean would love to tell you all about my short lived first wife when you get home.”

            “I look forward to hearing all about it. How is Dean?”

            “At this point, I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t set up a widow’s walk. He really misses you. We both do.”

            “I miss you both as well.”

            “Still haven’t figured out what’s up that new tattoo of his either. Now that the bandage is off he’s been covering it with a leather bracelet. It’s really suspicious.”

            “As long as it isn’t another demonic mark, I’m fairly certain you have nothing to worry over.”

            “I hope not. I have a ‘one primordial force of chaos per lifetime’ limit. Knowing Dean it’s probably just the words ‘death by taco’ or something equally dumb.”

            “Sam, is there a particular reason your brother would have experience with fatal Mexican entrees?” Castiel asked warily, ignoring Crowley’s raised brow.

            “Sadly, yes. But that is a whole other story. You can add it to your list. For now, suffice it to say Gabriel is very creative.” Sam yawned loudly. “Anyway, it’s getting late so I’ll let you go before Dean gets back home. He’d shave my head if he knew I called you.”

            “I would hate to be responsible for such a terrible crime against nature.” Castiel deadpanned.

            “Thanks for the support, man.” Sam joked before his tone turned affectionate. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright. If you decide you’re ready to come back, you’re welcome here anytime. You know that, right? Dean even cleaned out a room for you.”

            “Of course, Sam. I will keep that in mind. Take care.”

* * *

 

_Florence, OR_

            After Crowley’s sudden departure for business in hell, Castiel pulled over in the closest town due to increasing restlessness.A quick glance at his phone revealed a message sent earlier that morning.

*From Dean: _It’s been three Thursdays since I last heard your voice_

_I left on a Thursday,_ Castiel thought wistfully, _perhaps I’ll find my way home on one someday as well._

 

            Castiel spent the next day and a half drifting in and out of the world around him as though he was trapped in a waking dream. Steve had dreamed of burning wings, a warehouse filled with corpses, and the sticky, suffocating blackness. Emmanuel never slept. The weary angel pondered what sins would haunt him now if his closed eyes were able to bring rest.

            By evening Castiel sat on the roof of his car under the stars, tired of his journey but still uncertain of its end. The sound of a text alert echoed in the lonely, empty air around him.

*From Dean: _Why?_

Castiel considered ignoring this plea as he’d done the rest. It was far too difficult for him to reason when Dean was involved. Confusing at best and frustrating at worst, Dean never spoke of what he wanted but expected Castiel to somehow know it anyway. _He says he needs me, what does that even mean?_

His own desire for Dean’s company coupled with the call of unspoken prayer reaching out became too much to bear. With shaking hands Castiel finally reached back.

*To Dean: _I need to know who I am._

            Before he’d settled and returned his phone to his pocket, Dean replied.

 

*From Dean: _You’re Cas._

“How is it that you always make it sound so simple?”

* * *

 

_Outside Billings, MT_

 

            He hadn’t intended to stop but a rusty, broken-down truck on the side of the road caught his attention. A woman leaned up from under the hood as Castiel parked behind her. She kicked the back bumper with a string of curses and slowly approached Castiel’s rolled down window.

            “You wouldn’t happen to be a mechanic sent down from heaven would you?” She joked, oblivious to Castiel’s tense flinch. “Engine’s on the fritz again, and there’s just no reasoning with her I’m afraid.”

            “I don’t think angelic assistance would help much for that,” The woman looked amused, so he carefully continued. “Perhaps I can give you a ride if you require one?”

            “You sure about that. This could all be playing into my elaborate plot to kidnap you and sell you for parts.” She winked at him, and leaned back against the bed of her truck.  
            “I suppose, though it doesn’t seem sound strategy to warn me first and I believe I’m more valuable as a whole.”

            “Anybody ever tell you you’re weird?” She laughed warmly, “I like you. How about this? Give me a lift to the ranch a few miles back, and I’ll call a tow from there.”

            She climbed into the passenger seat. “Names Lia. What shall I call my daring rescuer slash potential kidnapping victim?”

            “Cas,” He replied, shaking her offered hand. “Will it be okay to leave your vehicle out here unattended?”

            Lia shrugged carelessly and leaned back against her seat. “Eh, where’s it gonna go?  If a bison manages to jack that pile of scrap metal, I say he earned it.”

 

 

            On the drive to the ranch Lia told him about how she’d bought the land with her savings several years before. The whole place had been falling apart, and over time she’d been slowly working to repair it. She’d been on the last supply run for materials to build a new barn and stables for the ranch horses when Castiel found her.

            Castiel hesitated a moment as he prepared to leave before offering to stay and assist her with the labor instead. Lia eagerly accepted his help, offering to pay him in the “finest grilled burgers.” Despite not needing to eat, Castiel played the part and enjoyed his payment to the best of his current ability.

            At the end of three days, the horses were moved to the new stable, and Lia gleefully torched the old in celebration. She was complementing Castiel on his surprising natural inclination to carpentry when a familiar voice startled them from behind.  
            “People these days. No one enjoys a good witch hunt anymore. Barbarians the whole lot...” Crowley trailed off, his face darkening as he looked over to Castiel’s glaring acquaintance. “Ellie?”  
            “Ellie?” Castiel asked, brow furrowing at the suddenly smug demon and the woman beside him now tightly gripping an iron crowbar.

            “Yes, Ellie.” Crowley waved a hand dismissively. “Your new pal here managed to dodge out of a deal with me in Idaho a few years ago thanks to your best mates Spam and Dean. Killed my favorite hellhound, the bastards. She’s been hiding from me using a hex bag ever since. I must say, I was only here to retrieve your feathered arse. This is purely happenstance.

            “Fuck back to hell you smarmy dick,” Ellie spat viciously as Castiel stepped between her and Crowley.  
            “This woman, whoever she may be or whatever deal she made, is pure of soul and has shown me a great deal of human kindness. I absolve her of her sins.”

            “You what?” Ellie asked, confused.

            “That’s not how this works and you know it, birdbrain.” Crowley replied impatiently, indifferent to their baffled audience. “Step off angel and let me collect what I am due.”

            “Holy crap, he’s an angel?” Ellie clutched her temple in exasperation. “I’ve been hitting on a freaking angel for the last three days... I really am going to hell.”

                        “Crowley, please.” Castiel pleaded, slowly drawing his blade. “I don’t wish to fight you over this but I will.”

            “Seriously? You don’t even know this woman. You met her three days ago under a false name. You really are as bad as a damn Winchester.”

            “She’s been successfully hiding from you for years, and it’s only because of me and my presence here that you’ve managed to find her now. Would it really be so difficult for you to just let her go?”

            “Fine.” Crowley grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I never saw her. She can continue to live out the remainder of her days here in the middle of bloody nowhere with the overgrown cattle. Happy? Or do you need any more special favors?”

            “Thank you.” Castiel turned back to an incredulous but relieved Ellie. “Lia, Ellie, whoever you chose to be, thank you as well.”

            Castiel gave her a small bow and ushered Crowley toward the car by his shoulder.  
  
  
            Castiel pulled over into an open field twenty miles from Ellie’s ranch.

            “Forget something?” Crowley asked, moderately curious.

            “I’ve had a lot of time for reflection over the past four weeks, and I realized I’ve always really known what I wanted. I’ve just been too afraid to take it. You asked if I needed any more favors. There is just one more thing.” He pulled out his sword once more and gave Crowley a knowing look.

            “You do realize,’ Crowley said as he took the blade. “I could just simply kill you with this.”

            “You won’t.”

            “I won’t?”

            “No,” Castiel stated, staring the demon in the eyes. “Because deep down, you and I don’t actually hate each other. Your words.”

            “Very well,” Crowley bit back a fond smirk. “If you’re sure you’re ready to take the jump, then I have only one condition. If there ever comes a time when I’ve gone mental and decide I want the same, you will personally do the ritual.”

            “Deal”

            Crowley looked to the angel’s lips suggestively.

            “I am not kissing you...”

* * *

 

_On the Road (reprise)_

            “I’ll be there sometime late tonight. I look forward to seeing you again. Goodbye, Claire.”

            Castiel ended the call before addressing his demon passenger one final time.

            “Are you sure you don’t want to come to Jody’s with me?”

             Castiel didn’t particularly want him anywhere near Claire, but after the favors Crowley had done for him, he figured he should at least make the offer.  
            “Jody Mills? Nah, I imagine Sheriff Mills considers me the worst blind date she ever had. Can’t think she’d be very thrilled to see me again, and I rather enjoy all my pieces attached in their current placements, thank you.” Crowley shook his head. “This is my stop. Enjoy your second life Castiel. Maybe even try living this one.”

            Without another word Crowley disappeared leaving a small glowing vial where he once sat. Castiel’s phone received another text, but he made to no move to acknowledge it.

            _Crashing the car might actually be fatal now_ , he thought, _whatever it is can wait_.

* * *

 

_Sioux Falls, SD_

 

            It was after midnight when Castiel arrived in Sioux Falls. Twenty-nine days after he’d departed from Lebanon, a Thursday once more.

            Castiel pulled up to Jody’s home, a dark shape barely visible at the end of the drive. As he came closer the shadow’s owners became beautifully, painfully clear.

            Dean stood with arms crossed leaned up against the Impala and waiting. Castiel parked the Continental, stopping to quickly read the text he’d ignored earlier on the road, before stepping out to join him.

            “Got a tip you were headin’ this way.” Dean told him softly, as he gripped Castiel in a tight hug.

            Castiel returned the embrace, pulling back only to place the vial of his grace into his friend’s palm. “Hello, Dean.”

 

            Back in the driver’s seat, the light on Castiel’s phone faded but Dean’s last message was still visible.

 

*From Dean: _Come home, dammit_.

* * *

 

 


End file.
